


Wading Deep

by Desideratainlove



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desideratainlove/pseuds/Desideratainlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Emma, dear, I'm never ready for these crazy press tours either. No one ever is. You'll work terribly long hours, your feet will hurt from your ridiculous shoes, you'll be tired every moment of every day, and you'll have the time of your life. It'll be fine. You've been working for me for two years. You know how I'd handle every situation you might encounter. You've even got this thing called a brain that will help you make your own decisions about things. It'll go swimmingly."</p>
<p>So Emma's mentor tells her. But when you're the stand-in agent for Tom Hiddleston for a tour across America, promoting his buzziest role yet, someone's going to be out of their depth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"A month and a half is a long time, Meredith. You sure I'm ready for this?"

Meredith studied her protégé for a moment.

"No."

Meredith took a sip of wine as her assistant Emma reacted to this statement. She let Emma carry on for a few moments, pacing the room and throwing her arms around wildly, saying god knows what at the top of her voice. Meredith motioned for Emma to sit on one of the cozy armchairs in her home office, and Emma obliged without an argument.

"Emma, dear, I'm never ready for these crazy press tours either. No one ever is. You'll work terribly long hours, your feet will hurt from your ridiculous shoes, you'll be tired every moment of every day, and you'll have the time of your life. It'll be fine. You've been working for me for two years. You know how I'd handle every situation you might encounter. You've even got this thing called a brain that will help you make your own decisions about things. It'll go swimmingly."

Emma eyed her boss warily. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Oh don't get sentimental, silly girl."

Emma smiled. Meredith was a hard-ass, but she was also the best in the business in England. She started in the film industry as an extra on BBC television shows, then got a job as a personal assistant. Not long after, Meredith found her footing as an agent, and was now owner of a small firm that worked for the who's who of England's movie stars ("Never the singers, dear," Meredith had said when they first met. "Double the drama and triple the work.") She was tall, almost a head taller than Emma, and a fair bit rounder than Emma as well, and had a steely grey look that could stop a fan in their tracks.

Emma, her assistant, was (almost) nothing like her. She was short, a mere 5’5”, and was seven pounds away from being the fittest she had been in her life. She had found her passion for the profession when she was 25 and stuck in a dead-end job, which she quit immediately and never looked back. The reason Meredith had hired her had be simple—she was brilliant with people. Emma also had a pretty face, one that so few could say no to. That helped a lot in this industry.

"At the very least," Meredith said, "I've given you our very easiest client for this."

Emma laughed. "Yes, easiest. And most attractive."

"What, that's not a perk?" Meredith raised her eyebrows.

"No, it'll be my bloody downfall." Emma said, taking a sip of her wine. It had been tough for her to not giggle a tiny bit when she thought about her impending trip with one of Britain’s hottest and most-talented actors.

"He also happens to be on track for an Oscar nomination, which hinges on this press tour." Emma said.

"He's a shoe-in," Meredith said.

"Who's a shoe-in?" Kelly, Meredith’s partner said, swooshing into the room. "Hello, love," She kissed Emma on the cheek, then rounded the desk to plant a peck on her partner's lips.

"Your lady love here seems to think Tom is practically guaranteed an Oscar nod for _Widow's Son_." Emma said, pulling her knees to her chest, and curling her arm with her wineglass between her legs and torso.

"Well of course he is," Kelly said, "He was fucking brilliant."

"And don't you ever call me her lady love again," Meredith said, gesturing with her wineglass.

The doorbell rang. Emma started to unfold her legs, but Kelly stopped her.

"It's my house love, I'll get the door."

"It's Meredith's house as well, and I answer the door when it's just the two of us," Emma said, sticking out her tongue cheekily.

"Yes, but you're my assistant."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Did you order takeaway?" Emma asked.

"No, it's a surprise." Meredith said mysteriously.

"For Kelly?"

"No, you." Emma gave her a quizzical look and adjusted her glasses.

"What's this about, then?"

"Not what, dear. Who." Meredith stood up slowly. "Ah Thomas, do come in." Meredith said.

Emma nearly spit her wine back into her glass, but managed to swallow it. She didn't dare look back as she felt the blush rush to her cheeks immediately. _I am not ready for Tom fucking Hiddleston tonight_ , she thought. Instead, well, it could be worse. She was in her most comfortable pair of slacks, well worn from several years of work, and a plain, white button-up shirt that she had been untucked hours earlier. The bun on the top of her head had been stacked there precariously hours ago, when her long, voluminous hair had worn down her patience and was trying to accomplish a million things at once. Her shoes were off in some corner of the office, so she curled her naked toes under her.

Tom practically ran across the room and engulfed Meredith in a hug. "My lovely Meredith, it's been too long darling." He pulled back and gave her a kiss on each cheek. "You look great."

"Always with the flattery.” Meredith blushed. _She never blushes!_ “You too Tom."

Kelly came back in with two highballs of whiskey and handed one to Tom.

"Here you are, handsome," Kelly said. They clinked glasses and each had a small sip.

"This is the good stuff, Kelly, what's the occasion?" Tom said, extricating himself from an expensive-looking leather jacket, leaving him in a thick, long sleeved tee-shirt and a pair of relaxed fit dark jeans.

"You're pending adventure, of course. Plus, I thought we'd let the ladies finish off the wine if they wanted."

"Yes, ladies," Tom said, approaching the desk where Meredith and Emma sat. "I don't think I've met this lady before."

He smiled down at Emma, then looked to Meredith for an introduction. She had already sat down, but gestured across her desk.

"How rude of me. Tom, this is my associate, Emma."

Emma raised her eyebrow at the word "associate," but the look on Meredith's face told her to let it go. She unfolded herself to stand, set her wineglass on Meredith's desk, and extended a hand.

"Emma." Tom repeated. "How lovely to finally meet you! Meredith speaks of you often."

"Mr. Hiddleston, great to finally meet you," She said, willing herself to look him in the eye. She prayed her hands weren't too sweaty. "Meredith, of course, speaks of you in great regard. And so do most of my friends, and the women in my family and a couple of the men, but I suppose that's for an entirely different reason."

They all giggled a bit, and Tom's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Emma took this time to study the ridiculously good-looking man in front of her. He absolutely dwarfed her, not only in height but also in build. He had put on some muscle mass for his role in _Widow's Son_ , and had been maintaining it for their press tour. Tom had a jovial smile, one that took over his whole face, and kind eyes, which were a blue that Emma had no word to describe. His hair was kept short now, and it was wonderfully curly. It was every fangirl's dream (and while Emma positively abhorred the use of the word fangirl, and claimed not to be one, she too had the same fantasy) to run her fingers through those curls.

"Come everyone, have a seat," Meredith said, motioning to the various chairs and the loveseat in her office. Tom moved to sit on the loveseat, but Kelly headed for the door.

"Why don't we go into the living room? It'll be a bit more comfortable," Kelly said.

"Here, I'll grab your crutches," Emma said, moving to grab them from behind the door.

"Crutches?! Meredith, what happened?" Tom asked, a look of genuine concern on his face.

Emma stopped in her tracks and Kelly's jaw hit the floor

"She didn't tell you?!" Kelly said to Tom.

"You didn't tell him?!" Emma said to Meredith.

"Obviously not,” Meredith said, then sighed loudly. "Emma, be a doll and get those crutches." She pushed herself up, and reached for the crutches as Emma brought them over. She came around the desk, hobbling, to show Tom her foot.

"Christ, Meredith, what'd you do?" He said, bending over at the waist to inspect her cast.

"It was run over by a car, while I was wearing heels. Broken in several places. Happened a week ago."

"Sounds bloody awful," Tom said.

"It is." Meredith said, all weight on her right leg and crutches.

"It's going to be hell for you to get around on our trip," Tom said.

"Meredith..." Emma said, now fuming. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Meredith rolled her eyes. "Jesus, I feel like a child being scolded by my mum. Where did you learn that look, Emma? Wait, don’t tell me. Tom, I'm not going on this trip with you."

He stood up, and looked confused.

"You're...not going?" He set his glass on her desk next to Emma's.

"No."

He started pacing, and gesturing wildly like Emma had only a few minutes earlier.

"But Meredith! This is the most important press tour of my career! And it's for a month and half for Christ sake! I can't take care of myself for that long, you bloody well know that. You're my rock and..."

Meredith looked at him, trying not to laugh.

"It's going to be fine."

"How is this going to be fine?" Tom asked.

Meredith looked at Emma.

"Because, I'm coming with you." Emma said, with no enthusiasm.

Tom looked between the two women.

"Meredith, can I have a word?"

Emma and Kelly left the room without having to be asked.

\--

"Well that went well," Emma muttered as she followed Kelly into the kitchen.

"Honestly, I don't know what the bloody hell she was thinking." Kelly said, going straight for the freezer and the ice cream. "Want some?"

"Yes, but I can't. Meredith just bought me all of those beautiful clothes. It'd be a shame if I didn't fit into them."

Kelly huffed, and grabbed two spoons anyway. She set one in front of Emma, and dug one into the carton.

"Honey, you've got nothing to fucking worry about. People would kill for your figure."

Emma enviously watched the slightly plumper Kelly eat her ice cream.

"You've got a wonderful woman in your life who loves you no matter what you look like." Emma said. “I’ve never even had a pet that tolerated me."

Kelly laughed.

"He's going to positively hate me," Emma said, leaning over the counter and dropping her head into her hands.

"No, he won't pass judgement so quickly. You underestimate him."

"He clearly wanted us to leave so that he could tell Meredith that I absolutely won't do for this tour."

"Oh Emma, don't be so dramatic. Shh, they're coming."

Emma could hear the crutches before she could see Meredith.

"Emma, join us in the foyer?"

Emma nodded. She ran back to grab her things from her desk in Meredith's office, put on her coat and scarf, and trudged to the front door.

Tom was waiting with Meredith, his long fingers playing with his keys.

"Emma, hi," he said, stepping towards her. He looked...guilty? Embarrassed? Emma couldn't tell. He ran a hand though his hair and looked down at her.

  
"Listen, I'm sorry for...all that back there." He motioned in the direction Emma had just come from.

Emma straightened up a bit. "No need to apologize Mr. Hiddleston..."

"Tom, please," he said.

"No need to apologize, Tom." She corrected herself. "I was unaware that Meredith had yet to inform you of the arrangement."

"I know." He said, "And she's sorry too," he said, giving her a look.

"Yes, terribly," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's getting late, and the two of you need to be up in… six short hours. I hope you're packed."

"My stylist did it for me," Tom said quickly.

Meredith looked at Emma.

"You watched me pack, Meredith."

"Right, then out you get. Have a safe trip," She said, kissing Tom on the cheek.

"I can't leave just yet Meredith, sorry. I need to call a cab." Emma pulled out her phone and began dialing.

"Oh, don't be silly, Tom can give you a ride."

"I don't want to be a hassle.” Emma said, embarrassed.

"Nonsense," he said. "Where do you live?"

"She lives 10 minutes on from you."

"Thank you, Meredith.” Emma said sarcastically.

"Oh, don't be mad, Emma dear. Swimmingly, it will all go swimmingly." Meredith said, as she pushed the two of them out her front door.

Tom and Emma finished getting wrapped up against the cold November night.

"My car's a bit up the street, sorry for the walk," Tom said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

"I don't mind, it’ll allow me some time to get the rage out before getting into an enclosed space."

"Emma, I...

"No, I'm not angry with you Tom. I'm angry with Meredith. Didn't exactly allow us to get off on the right foot."

"No, she didn't." Tom stopped mid step. "Let's try this again." He stuck out his arm, and Emma laughed at him.

"What?" He said.

"Are we in a cheesy comedy here?" Emma asked. "People don't do stuff like this in real life."

"Being an actor tends to lead me to do some cheesy things, just go along with it, okay?"

Emma sighed, and stuck her hand out as well.

"Hi, I'm Tom, and it’s lovely to finally meet you Emma."

The inflection of his words caused Emma to blush. She was glad they were between streetlamps.

"And it is lovely to finally meet you too, Tom. I’m looking forward to working with you."

"It's going to be great!” Tom said, taking off with long strides towards his car. He had the enthusiasm of a toddler, which was enduring now, but would most likely wear Emma’s patience thin in a few weeks. “Meredith said you’ve never travelled with a client before. I think I’m quite easy to work with, but of course I’d think that.” He paused on the passenger-side door to open it for Emma.

“Thank you,” she said, sliding in.

Tom jogged around the car to jump in the driver’s seat.

“Blimey it’s cold.” Tom said, starting the car then the heat in quick succession. “Have you been to America before?”

“Yes,” Emma answered. “I went to uni out in LA actually.”

“Ah, so it will feel like home! That’s the first leg of the trip, nice to start somewhere familiar I suppose. We’re going to have so much fun. There are only two large premieres, but the smaller ones will be the most enjoyable for me I think. I love meeting the fans.”

“You’re much more enthusiastic about this whole business than the other people I’ve worked for,” Emma commented.

“I’ve got the best job in the world! How could I not be enthusiastic?”

“I don’t know, honestly. These people, who shall remain nameless, barely stopped for pictures, never did autographs, and went straight into the premiere. Not good for the public image."

“No, not at all. Lots of us are grumpy buggers, though. Tired of having the cameras in our faces all the time. I’ve been pretty lucky as far as that goes, though.”

They chatted amicably the rest of the car ride. By the time Tom pulled up in front of Emma’s flat building, she almost felt comfortable around the man. Almost. That was, of course, until he rounded the car, opened the door, and stuck a hand in to help her out, a perfect English gentleman.

“Careful, bit slippery here,” he said as he pulled her out of the car.

“You’re very kind, thank you.” Emma said as she let go. She could have sworn there was an electric shock when his hand touched her, but it could have been caused by the dryness in the air.

He smiled.

“I’ll walk you up,” Tom said, locking his car.

“Oh, that’s not necessary, really.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind in the least.” Emma trudged up the few steps to her flat building and walked into the lobby.

“Quite nice, this,” Tom said, looking around at the larger than average lobby.

“I’m sure not as nice as yours, but yes, I like it here.” While the hours for working for one of the premier agents in England were shit, it did have its monetary benefits. At the very least, it meant that Emma came home to a comfortable and somewhat large flat that looked like it was out of the pages of a furniture magazine.

To forgo the normal awkwardness while waiting for the lift, Emma started going through their schedule the next day.

“I don’t mean to treat you like a child, but would you like a wake-up call in the morning?”

“I think I can manage,” Tom said. “I probably won’t sleep at all. Too much energy,” Tom said.

“I have no idea how I’m supposed to keep up with you,” Emma said, laughing as they entered the lift. She pressed the button for the fourth floor as the door closed.

“Caffeine? Once you get into the thick of it you won’t realize you’re tired until you’re back at the hotel. Meredith never could keep up though. But then, she trusted me enough to let me stay out and play, and get myself back later on in the night.”

“Hmm, don’t know if I trust you though. New agent, might try testing the waters to see what you can get away with.”

Tom laughed at this. “I promise I won’t be too troublesome.”

“From the lips of the God of Mischief,” Emma said as the lift reached her floor. Tom grinned.

“What time will the car be ’round to mine?” Tom asked as they walked down the narrow hallway.

“Five. I’ll give you a ring or text when we’re on our way.”

“Perfect.”

Emma unlocked her door and went inside.

“I’ll see you in the morning then, all bright and chipper-like.” Emma said.

“And I’ll be waiting, with bells and whistles on. Sleep well,” he said as he turned down the hallway.

“You too,” she called down, before shutting the door.

She dropped her bag on the dining table and hung her coat over her chair. Emma looked around her kitchen, and promptly burst into a fit of giggles that didn’t subside for a few minutes.

Easiest client, indeed, she thought. Easiest, most charming, endlessly handsome. What could possibly go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

The buzzer on Emma's clock went off far too early. She opened her eyes blearily, peering at the blinking lights — 4 a.m. Her feet reached for the floor as she sat up slowly, and immediately retracted when they hit the cold wood. She toed around for her worn slippers, and trudged into the bathroom.

The light nearly blinded her, so she pawed at the counter for her glasses with her eyes half-lidded. Emma shoved them on her face, only to wince away from her reflection, which shined back all bed head and puffy eyes.

"This won't do," she whispered to herself as she reached for the tap to turn on the shower. She waited for the last possible moment to strip off her sweatpants and favorite sweater before jumping into the scalding hot water. Steam enveloped her, relaxing her stiff muscles and caressing her eyes open a bit wider. As much as she wanted to stay in, she took the quickest shower of her life; the hired car would be by at 4:45, and she would have to blow-dry her hair, else it be frozen when she walked into cold November London.

The second she turned off the water she toweled off, slipped into her fluffy robe and approached the mirror again. Better. 

She went through her morning routine quickly. She threw on her clothes and finished up her sparse makeup in the bathroom. There was still a few moments before she had to be outside, so she gave herself a once over. 

An oversized cream-colored sweater lay over a grey tank top, and a matching grey infinity scarf was wound around her neck. Her fleece-lined leggings were tucked into long socks that were near the color of her sweater. Those were tucked into a pair of her favorite boots she didn't think she would be able to fit in the luggage. A couple of rings, a leather bracelet and a sock bun on the top of her head completed her look. She only had on foundation, eyebrow liner and mascara, because if she wanted to get her contacts in at some point in the day, she didn't want makeup running down her face.

After tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear and pushing her glasses up again, she double-checked her luggage. She made sure that all of the lovely, bright packages containing her new clothes were packed so that they wouldn’t wrinkle too much. She'd have to get a dress or two for the nicer events, but she was hoping that she had lost enough weight to be loaned a couple. Meredith had connections for that.

She had her passport, wallet, mobile, chargers, camera, tablet...she mentally checked everything off. Her mobile lit up, the car was there. She threw on her coat, grabbed her three bags, and struggled her way down the narrow stairway.

When her belongings were all packed up and she and the driver were on their way, she texted Tom.

 _Good morning Tom. We’re on our way to yours_. -Emma

_Good morning. Thanks. See you soon._

Tom had just finished moving his luggage onto the sidewalk when they pulled up. The driver jumped out to help, and Emma crawled out of the back seat to greet Tom.

“Morning,” she said, trying to sound chipper.

“Good morning!” Tom replied, with a customary peck on the cheek. Emma knew he was affectionate with the people he knew, but that knowledge didn’t quite prepare her for a kiss on the cheek from the most attractive man she had ever met. If the wind wasn't biting at her, she was sure her skin would be tingling.

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” Emma asked, visibly shying away from his exuberance.

“I did a bit actually. Been up for an hour though. Already had a cuppa. Which reminds me…” he darted back into the lobby of his building and came out carrying two takeaway cups with lids.

“Tea, for you,” he said, thrusting one of the cups to her.

“Oh, I, thank you.” She said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know. But I’ve always done it for Meredith, why break tradition?” He said. Emma graced him with a smile, and Tom looked very proud of himself. They got into the back seat of the town car and set off for Heathrow.

Emma took a sip of her tea. “Mm, chai! How’d you know?” She asked.

“I checked with Meredith."

“Thank you, great way to start the day.”

He positively beamed at her.

“So what’s the schedule look like today?” He asked, taking a sip from his own.

“Travel, that’s it. We’ll get into LA with plenty of time for a kip before dinner. Tomorrow you have a thousand interviews after time on the Craig Ferguson show. You’re booked Wednesday with meetings, then dinner with the other actors and director from the movie. Thursday’s your premiere, and we don’t leave until Saturday.”

“So Friday’s a free day then.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Would you mind getting in touch with Bob? I’d like to see if we could get some of the guys together.”

“Bob?” Emma asked, making a note to call ‘Bob’s’ assistant.

“Yeah, Bob Downey.”

Emma still looked confused.

“Robert Downey Jr.?”

“Oh, okay. Ironman. You want me to call Ironman. Right.”

Tom laughed.

“I didn’t know he was called Bob.”

“Everyone but the media calls him Bob. Suits him, I think.”

“Sounds a bit funny to me. All the Bobs I know are fat and nothing like superheroes.”

Tom laughed.

They got to the airport in record time, and went through all the pre-flight checks without a hitch. They were some of the first into the terminal, so they grabbed seats nearest the window to watch the sun rise over a rare, clear London sky.

“There’s nothing quite like London, is there?” Emma said as she settled back into the uncomfortable chair.

“No.” Tom agreed. “I’ve been all over the world, but there’s no place I’d rather live than London.” They sat in silence for a bit. “Did you enjoy your time in LA?” he asked.

“Oh, um. Yes, I suppose so. Uni was really great. I loved the school, and made some really great friends. I’m hoping to see them this Friday, on our day off.”

“That’s great. What did you study?”

“Theatre, at first. But I was rubbish at it. I didn’t figure out I wanted to do PR until my third year. Really had to work at it to finish in four.”

“Theatre? Is that why you ended up in the industry?”

Emma wasn't used to talking about herself, and almost felt uncomfortable with the attention; six, sometimes seven days a week was spent endlessly talking about her clients. It was kind of Tom to ask about her, as so few people did.

“I suppose so. I always felt the pull of the industry, but I didn’t have enough talent in front of the camera. Or the looks, as many a talent scout at auditions told me.”

“Nonsense," he said, leaning over as if to tell her a secret, "most of us are pretty silly looking.”

“You’re the farthest from silly looking anyone could possibly be, Tom,” Emma said, before she could catch herself. She blushed a bit, as did Tom.

“I, well. Thank you, you’re too kind.”

To spare the both of them further embarrassment, Tom’s section was called.

“That’s us!” He said, jumping up and gathering his things.

“Just you, actually,” Emma said. “I’m in coach.”

“That can’t be right, I thought I saw your ticket. May I check?” Tom said, setting a bag down and reaching for her ticket. “Yes, see, you’re right next to me. In first class.”

“Huh, I booked these tickets myself,” Emma said, noticing that it did indeed say first class.

“Maybe Meredith felt bad for last night, and bumped you up?” Tom suggested.

“That'd be very unlike her, but I'm not going to complain!” Emma said as she gathered up her things and moving to the gate with Tom.

“Good morning, miss,” Tom said to the ticket taker as they got to the front of the line. She looked like she was about to pass out. “Have a good day,” he said to her, after she couldn’t verbalize anything.

Emma followed.

“Was that…?”

“Yes, it was.” 

The woman took her ticket and scanned it. “And are you…?”

“No, no. Just his agent."

The woman nodded and gulped. “Lucky you. I’d be his trash collector if it meant I could see him in person every once and a while.”

Emma smiled at the poor, smitten girl. “Well, now you won’t have to be, you just did.”

She winked at the girl and followed after Tom.

“That girl nearly passed out,” Emma said as they approached the plane.

“What? Why?” Tom said, looking concerned.

“You really can’t be that naive, can you? Because of you. She’s team Loki, I could see it in her eyes.”

“Oh,” Tom said, chuckling a bit. “I’m usually better at noticing that. It’s a bit early though.”

“My eyes may roll out of my head, dealing with all of your fangirls.”

Tom laughed. “Meredith is the same way. She gives them this one look, and they just know to back off a bit,” he paused for a second, a lightbulb going on in his head, “it’s the same look you gave her last night, actually.”

“Great,” Emma said, “that’s like figuring out that, no matter how hard you’ve tried, you point your finger and yell at your kids just like your mum used to do to you.”

“Is Meredith that terrible?” Tom joked.

“Oh, no not at all. She isn’t even really like my mum, who isn’t terrible either.” Emma said. She pulled her carryon up to put it in the overhead compartment, but Tom took it for her.

“I’ve got it,” he said. He lifted it up easily over his head, exposing a small sliver of his abdomen. Emma couldn’t help but sneak a peek.

“Thanks. Would you like the window?” Emma asked before sitting down.

“It’s all yours. I probably travel more than you, you can enjoy the view on this leg.”

They sat down, buckled in, and got comfortable.

“I’ve never flown first class, it’s so roomy!” Emma said, looking around the cabin.

“Yes, and the chairs turn into beds, look!” Tom said, pushing his chair back all the way, playing with the buttons like a child would do. Emma laughed. He pulled himself up before the flight attendant could yell at him.

They got the safety messages, and were taxiing down the runway in no time.

“So Emma,” Tom said, as they topped out their assent. “We’re going to be working together quite closely these next few weeks. Is there anything you’d like to know about me or the movie?”

Emma smiled. “It’s my job to know about you and your work, Tom.”

“That’s right, trick question.” Tom said. “May I get to know you a little better?”

“You're very kind, Tom, and I don't mean to sound rude, but you needn't feign interest or anything. This press tour will be successful whether you know anything about me or not.”

He looked confused.

"And I've offended you. That didn't take me long, sorry," Emma mumbled, turning her attention to the window.

"No, not offended," he said. "You just don't know me as well as you think. Hey," he said, putting a hand on her arm to get her attention. His voice was kind. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't interested. Meredith, great an agent as she is, isn't one for making friends with her clients, so I understand if that's how you would be too. But I was hoping that perhaps after the end of a long day, we could at least be friends."

Emma considered him for a moment. "Friends, I can do friends. I'm just, not used to talking about myself. At work there is no me, I'm just an extension of my clients. And I don't exactly get a lot of time off, so I don't think about myself much. Does that even make sense?" She finished lamely.

He nodded. "I completely understand. I sometimes feel like a puppet, not quite in control of my life. Comes with the territory I guess," Tom paused. He realized his hand was still on her arm, and while she didn't look uncomfortable, he didn't want to push it. "So I'll ask again, may I get to know you a little better?"

"Shoot," Emma said with a small smile.

Tom didn’t hesitate. “What do you do in your free time?”

“I don’t have much free time,” Emma said, bending over to unzip her boots and remove them. She folded her feet up underneath herself. “When I do, it’s usually at odd hours. I read a lot, watch a lot of movies. I see my friends when I can, but many of them are in the business and travel, or are in America. I spend a lot of time on my phone, even more time working.”

“I can relate. Who’s your favorite author?” He asked, switching gears.

Emma considered for a moment. “Who’s your favorite actor?”

“I... Touché,” Tom replied.

She smiled. “I don’t have a favorite. I grew up reading the Harry Potter books, like anyone my age, so I suppose you could say those are the most important books to me. But I have many favorites.”

“How old are you?” Tom asked, switching subjects.

"A true gentleman never asks a woman her age or weight, shame on you,” Emma joked.

He looked thoroughly embarrassed. “You’re right, my mum would ring my neck if she knew. You just look very young, and with the mention of the Harry Potter books, I didn’t know how young.”

“Suave recovery, sir. I'm 27."

“I try my best. You've got good genes - you look just out of uni. Let’s see, what else? Have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“Neither.” Tom raised his eyebrows, as if she did not adequately answer the question.

Emma sighed. “Oh, don’t we all experiment at some point?”

“What? Oh, no. But you...”

“I had a girlfriend for a few months at uni. Stunning, legs for days. It didn’t take me long to realize the relationship was missing something.”

“What?”

Emma just looked at him, waiting for him to connect the dots.

“Oh, right. Yes. I've known all along I didn't want an extra one of those in my relationships.”

Emma laughed.

“But currently, no significant other?” Tom said.

“No, not currently. Meredith keeps me rather busy."

“That’s not quite fair. She seems to get a fair amount of time off.”

“If I asked for it, I’m sure she’d give it to me. But I don’t mind. I had a pretty awful breakup about a year ago, broken engagement actually. The work has been a great distraction.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tom said.

“I’m not. It was for the best, believe me,” Emma said, resolutely.

Tom recovered their conversation and moved on to happier topics. He was incredibly easy to talk to, Emma found. He was a people-person, and one of the most intelligent men Emma had the pleasure to talk to. Conversation transitioned naturally into all sorts of interests, intelligent topics, even philosophy for a short while. Breakfast came around two hours after the flight had taken off, rendering their small corner of the plane silent for a while.

“Well, I’ve just about talked your ear off,” Emma said, stabbing at her food with her fork.

“Not at all. One of the more meaningful conversations I’ve had in a while, thank you.” Tom said, also digging into his breakfast.

Emma smiled. After the large meal, she felt rather content and sleepy. They agreed that a nap was in order, and fell asleep easily.

\--

Emma woke slowly to gentle pressure on her hip.

“Emma."

She kept her eyes closed, too comfortable to wake up just yet.

“Emma, darling you should get up.”

The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. When she did, her eyes snapped open, and she rolled over to see a sleepy Tom.

“Hello.” He said, an easy grin across his face.

“Hi,” she said, taking in her surroundings quickly. “Did I sleep through the whole flight?”

“No, but if you had you wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight. And to be honest, I was getting bored. I hope it’s okay that I woke you.”

“Yes, of course,” Emma said, remembering the feeling of his hand wrapped around her hipbone. She shivered a bit. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Now for some cards?”

The rest of the flight seemed to take no time at all, and by the end of it, Tom and Emma were on their way to being fast friends. Emma knew that it was ridiculous for her to even consider herself worthy enough to date him (she had considered it, in great detail, but that's beside the point) but thought that if he weren’t famous they’d make great roommates.

A driver was waiting for them in the terminal, but Tom was recognized immediately. The driver ushered him out to the car, then returned to help Emma collect the bags.

"The young ones always have the crazy fans," the driver, Jeffery commented as he pulled the last suitcase off the carrel.

"The ticket girl at Heathrow almost passed out," Emma said. She loaded herself up with her bags and followed after Jeffery.

"I just don't get it miss."

Tom was leaning against the sedan, not unlike Jake Ryan from _Sixteen Candles_.

"Oh, I get it a little bit," she said, trying to control herself as her teenage fantasy was played out in front of her.

When Tom saw them he rushed over to take Emma's bags.

"So sorry I couldn't help with these," he said.

"You should be in the car,” Emma said. “Luckily I'm a strong independent woman who can carry things a couple feet," Emma said, but didn't stop him from taking her bags.

"Sorry, I was raised like this, can't help it," he said, walking to the trunk.

"No wonder Meredith likes you best, you practically do her job for her." Emma spotted a few paparazzi and jumped in the car so as not to be caught in a picture with him. They were the bane of an agent's job, but were also necessary.

Tom smiled and waved and quickly followed her into the car.

"Quick please, Jeffery. I don't want them to know where I'm staying."

"Of course Mr. Hiddleston."

"How long to the hotel?"

"About an hour in this traffic. Sorry kids."

Kids? Tom and Emma looked at each other and giggled a bit. Emma pulled out her tablet and got to work answering emails, updating their schedule, and got the number to Bob's assistant.

"I'm going to call Mr. Downey's agent, any time you want to meet up with him?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. He's a busy guy, hopefully he can fit me in."

Emma nodded.

"You know, I can just call him direct, it seems a bit weird having you contact 'his people' if I can just talk to him," Tom said, almost sounding nervous.

Emma looked at him thoughtfully.

"Don't be silly, this is kind of how it works. And it's my job."

"Right, I know. It's just a bit strange, this."

"Strange? Listen, I'm good at what I do. And this is just a phone call, I think I can handle it," Emma said, trying to keep her frustration under control.

"Oh, Emma, Christ. That's not what I meant. I've just worked with Meredith for a long time. You're more like someone I'd spend time with, outside work."

Emma automatically decided he meant 'as friends', and nothing else.

"Tom, that's kind of you, and I'm all for being your friend, but I'm on the clock right now. I like my job, I'm good at my job and I want other people to know I'm good at my job. So I'm going to do my job, okay?"

"Yes, of course. And I won't interfere again."

"Good. You're the looks, let me be the brains," she said, sticking her tongue out as she lifted her phone to her ear.

"Cheeky," he said under his breath, smiling behind the hand that propped his head up.

"This is Brian," Robert's agent said on the other end of Emma's mobile.

"Hi Brian, this is Emma Porter, Tom Hiddleston's agent. How are you?"

"Well, thank you." Brian pulled away from the phone and Emma could hear him talking to someone else, "Tom Hiddleston's agent, hey wait, Bob! Give my phone back."

"Not a chance. Emma Porter. That doesn't sound like Meredith."

"No it doesn't, Mr. Downey. How are you?"

Tom looked at her, confused.

"Fine, thanks. How's reindeer games?"

Emma suppressed a smile. "Reindeer games is great, fresh off the plane from London."

Tom chuckled.

"So you're in LA. Great. You sound a lot prettier than Meredith."

"Focus, Mr. Downey."

"Call me Bob, Emma. So, you guys have time in your schedule to come hang?"

"Tom does, on Friday. I was calling to set up a play date."

"Well, consider it set up. Come over, 5ish?"

"He'll be there."

"You too. We'll need to even out the male to female ratio."

"Thanks, Mr. Down... Bob. We'll see you then."

"Great. Any way I can talk to Tom?"

"Not a chance. Have a good day, Mr. Downey."

"Cheeky, I like you."

"Thank you. Second time today someone has said that to me."

"Then it must be true. Laters!"

Emma pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it, a bit flabbergasted.

"Everything okay?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with Ironman. And he called me pretty and said he liked me. No big deal." Emma felt as though she was vibrating from excitement.

Tom laughed. "You're in a town car with Loki, does that mean nothing to you?"

"Jealous much?" Emma joked.

"The God of Mischief does not share his women." Tom waggled his eyebrows.

Emma chose her words carefully. "Loki was a bit of a womanizer wasn't he? Not my type."

"Shame. So what time am I due at Bob's on Friday?"

"We. Around 5. I hope that's okay," Emma added quickly, "he invited me as well."

"Yes of course, I was going to see if you wanted to go with me anyways." Tom smiled.

Emma checked them into the hotel when they arrived, and all the energy seemed to leave her body. "Right, I'm going to sleep. Am I off the clock or do you need anything else tonight?"

Tom stifled a yawn. "No, I think I'm on the same page. Do you want to get dinner later?"

"I don't think I'm going to be hungry, and I may just sleep through until morning."

"Sounds good. What time are we leaving for Craig's show?"

Emma pulled out her phone to verify. "Not until 11. I'll make sure they have a car waiting. Wake up call?"

"I'm good." Tom said as they got into the elevator. "What room are you in?"

"914."

"I'm in 916. Don't watch the telly too loud."

"I won't. Don't have hordes of women over."

Tom laughed. "I won't. Sleep well, Emma."

"You too, Tom."

Emma dragged her bags into the hotel room and got to unpacking, after she texted Meredith about their arrival. If she didn't unpack right away, it wouldn't get done the entire week. Her clothes had fared well, and it didn't look like anything would need to be ironed in the morning for the long day ahead of them. She pulled out her toiletries bag and headed for the bathroom, and turned the shower up as hot as it would go.

These early mornings and jet lagged evenings were going to be her life for the next month and a half - she just hoped that there was enough hot water to keep her going. It felt lovely to get the stink of the plane off of her, and as she massaged her scalp in the steam-soaked room, she couldn't help but think of Tom. She was attracted to him ( _let's be honest, who isn't_ , she thought to herself), but knew there was nothing to be done with it. She was glad for the opportunity to be friends, but at the end of the day, she knew he'd always introduce her as "my agent," and not, "my friend."

After her shower she could barely keep her eyes open. She didn't bother to put on her pajamas and just climbed into the big fluffy bed in a comfortable robe the hotel had provided.

She took a moment to reflect on her day. For the next month and a half, regardless of how good of friends they would become, she was going to be able to say goodnight to the silver-tongued god. Things could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think this is just going to turn into a slightly long story, detailing all things Tom might do for a women he falls for over the course of this long press tour. The plot will most definitely thicken beyond this however, and I'll try to keep the ramble-y bits to a minimum. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

Emma adjusted her handbag, tablet, coat and the shoes she was holding to knock sharply on Tom's door. She cracked her toes, and glanced around waiting for it to open. He was in the middle of tying his tie when he finally pulled the door open. His hair was still a bit damp from the shower, and Emma could almost see the curls tightening. He leaned in for a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

"Hello Emma. Am I running behind?"

"No, I'm just a bit early, hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all, do come in."

Emma brushed past Tom and into his room. It was identical to hers — clean, white and roomy. She set her things down on the table and chair, and turned around to assess her charge for the day. After admiring how well he wore a clean, white button-up shirt and _god could those trousers be tailored any tighter_ , she got to work.

"Give up on the tie," she said, after watching him struggle with it for a few minutes. "We'll take it with us for the interviews in the afternoon. You don't need to dress for Craig's."

"Thank god," Tom said, pulling the silky fabric away from under his collar with a snap. Emma held back a tiny gasp at the sound. "I couldn't get the bloody knot to sit right." He handed it to Emma, who calmly reached for it and wrapped it in the tissue paper his stylist had packed it in and stuck it in her large bag.

"Go with the waistcoat though, it looks great. Then you can choose to keep it on or remove it for the interviews this afternoon."

"My stylist wanted me to take along a whole other suit, but I like your idea better."

"Too much to travel with. Have you eaten?" Emma asked, glancing around the room for food.

"I did, lovely room service ordeal." He straightened up a few things in his room, which was already quite tidy, and packed up a messenger bag for the day. "Shall we?" He said.

Emma nodded and rounded her things up as well. She was still holding her shoes, and Tom looked at them strangely.

"I don't want to put them on until the last possible second," Emma explained, "because once they go on, they aren't coming off until we get back here tonight."

"Meredith wore sensible shoes." Tom commented as they got into the lift.

"Meredith could wear sensible shoes, everyone knew who she was and not to mess with her. No one knows that of me yet." Tom pushed the button for the lobby.

“I don’t see how shoes prove someone’s intent or motivations.”

“Don't you have sisters? Shoes can betray a woman's darkest secrets."

"And what secrets do these shoes betray about you?" Tom asked, not realizing his voice dropped an octave at the question.

"They say, 'my client is far too tall, and if I don't want to look like a child next to him, then I am to be in pain all day.'"

Emma sighed, resigning herself to her day in her too-tall pumps. She shifted from one leg to the other to slip them on after she entered the lift.

"I'm sorry, then, that I am the cause of your pain. You look lovely," Tom said quietly. Emma blushed. She was in one of the nicer dresses she had bought when she went shopping with Meredith before her trip (might as well do it right the first day, she thought). It was a cowl-neck stretch-jersey number that went past the knee and gathered right above her elbows. It was ruffled in all the right places and had a slimming belt with a gold clasp to draw her waist in. She had on a few dainty gold chains, all of varying lengths, and small gold studs in her ears. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, as she would get frustrated with it if it were in her face all day.

"Thank you. You always look so dapper, I didn't want to look like a slob next to you."

"I don't think that's possible. Here, let me help you into your coat." Tom said as they exited the lift. Could this man be any more polite? Emma thought. Once they were ready for the relatively brisk weather, they stepped out and into the waiting car.

"It'll take us a few minutes to get there. Is there anything you'd rather not discuss on the show? We can let them know beforehand."

"I don't think so. I don't think I've ever seen his show before, have you?" Tom asked, fiddling with his fingers and the small leather bracelet that graced his left wrist.  
Emma explained the format to him. "And he's not one to ask after relationships or breakups, so you'll be good there."

"Good, although this afternoon that may be an entirely different story," Tom said.

"I'll make sure that isn't an issue, Tom," she said resolutely. He smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He had been involved in a very public breakup about eight months ago, with a terrible woman who had only been with him for his status. She was now famous, for no other reason than having once dated Tom Hiddleston. Meredith had hated the woman, and had told Tom this, which had perhaps made the relationship last longer than it probably should have.

The ride to the studio was shorter than their ride from the airport had been the previous night. He was able to sneak into the building undetected, and was in for makeup when Craig came in to introduce himself. Emma made herself scarce, and let the two men get to know each other.

So how are things going? Meredith texted, somehow sensing that Emma had a short break.

Emma looked over to Tom, to see him and Craig laughing loudly over some joke one of them had just said.

Swimmingly, as you said. But it’s just day one, I’m sure something terrible is bound to happen.

Tom motioned over to Emma, who had just happened to glance up from her phone. Craig looked over, waved and winked at her. She gave a small wave and was going to go over to say hi but her phone started buzzing—Meredith. She mouthed “sorry” to the two men and took the call.

“Hello, Meredith.”

“Emma, dear. You mustn’t be so pessimistic.”

Emma moved over to a quieter portion of the green room.

“Yes, yes, of course. How’re things on the other side of the pond?”

“Going quite well without you here,” Meredith teased.

“Well good. Hey, did you change my seats on the plane? I flew first class out here.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Meredith said. “Tom asked that I make that change.”

“I…but why?”

“I don’t know, wanted to get to know you probably. Offered to pay for it out of his own pocket, actually.”

“Did he,” Emma said, catching Tom’s eye. He smiled easily at her. Emma's heart melted a fraction at the sight.

“Yep. Nice fellow."

“Yes. He told me you changed the reservation.”

“Well, I suppose he wasn’t wrong, because I did. I must not have been supposed to tell you. Oops.”

“You don’t sound too worried about it,” Emma said. “How’s your foot?”

“Terrible. So glad you have to be on your feet and not me.”

“Thanks Meredith, so kind. Looks like the show is starting, I’m going to go watch. Anything else you need me to take care of?”

“Just our Tom. Take care, dear.” Meredith hung up without giving Emma a chance to say goodbye.

“Meredith sends her love,” Emma said as she walked up next to Tom’s chair to watch the screen in the green room.

“Does she?”

“No, actually. She didn’t say anything about you, but I’m sure she meant to.”

Tom chuckled.

“This Craig is fantastic. Nice guy,” Tom said. They watched the opening of the show and the monologue, laughing through most of it. The show’s stagehands came to collect Tom, and she followed him to where he would wait for his introduction.

“You good?” She asked.

“Yep. Bit nervous. Always am before these gigs though.”

“You’ll be brilliant. Promise me one thing though.”

“Hmm?” He asked as he was fitted with a mic.

“For the love of God, no dancing.”

A wide grin took over his face. “That’s the only thing I can’t promise, sorry Em.”

She was caught off-guard by the old nickname, and didn't have time to come up with a retort before the stagehands gave him a nudge, and he walked out onto the set. He waved to the crowd, which was unsurprisingly full of screaming women. He hugged Craig and headed over to his chair. It took the set a full two minutes to quiet down for Craig to start the interview.

“Well that was something,” Craig said.

“Such a lovely welcome, thank you,” said Tom.

“You should stop being so nice,” Craig remarked, “they won’t scream for you like that if you’re mean.”

“No, probably not. But I’m a single, 35-year-old man Craig. It doesn’t hurt the ego if young women are screaming for me.”

Emma rolled her eyes and chuckled under her breath. A few of the other members of Craig’s staff joined her at the monitor.

“God he’s gorgeous,” one of the women said. “What’s he like to work with?”

Emma turned around to address the question. “Wonderful. A true gentleman, just like this,” she nudged her head back to the monitor.

The conversation rounded for a few moments, not settling on anything particular.

“So are you going to ask me about my movie?” Tom asked, balancing his ankle on his opposite knee.

“I suppose I could,” Craig said. The audience laughed. “Tell me about your movie.”

Tom started into a short summary of the plot, leaving out any spoilers, and enthusiastically began talking about the director and his cast mates.

“You get to work with any beautiful women?”

“Yes, of course. Evangeline Lilly, only for a couple of days though. She played my wife, but the opening sequence of the movie is after her funeral, so, you know,” Tom said.

“Well that’s terribly morbid. And not some big plot secret I hope.”

“No, of course not, I’m sure it’s on IMBD already,” Tom said.

“Well, that’s it."

“What’s it?”

“You’re done.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“I was just coming around to you, Craig,” Tom joked.

“I’m so sorry. How shall we send you off? Twerk with the horse? Try for the Big Cash Prize?”

“Twerk with the horse?” Tom asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes, dance with the horse.”

Tom laughed. “My agent specifically asked me not to dance.”

Emma facepalmed, and the few people she was watching with in the green room giggled.

“Your agent? The rather attractive woman in the green room?”

“That’s her,” Tom said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. Emma felt her face grow red hot.

“Well, may not be bad to test the limits with that one. If you’re lucky, she may punish you.” The green room grew very quiet.

Tom and the audience laughed. “We can only hope,” he said, standing with Craig to dance with Secretariat.

Emma turned away from the screen, unable to watch the extremely embarrassing, undeniably sexy, infamous dances moves of Tom Hiddleston. Some of the woman in the room began giggling. She heard the music cut, and she turned back around to the stares of Craig’s staff.

“Yes?” She said to the small crowd.

They all mumbled an excuse and began filing out of the way. A few moments later Tom bounded into the room.

“That was brilliant!” He said. “Dancing horses? Why isn’t more American telly like this?!”

“Because it all isn’t hosted by a Scotsman.” Emma looked at him expectantly.

“What’d I do?” Tom said innocently.

“Nice try,” she said. “You’re all sweaty.” She reached for a hand towel and handed it to him.

“Dancing will do that to a man,” he said. She ignored him.

“We’re in a bit of a hurry the rest of the day,” Emma said, gathering up their things. “I’ve ordered lunch, it’ll be ready when we leave. We’ll eat it on the way to the hotel where all the interviews are taking place. Do you think you can be ready to go soon?”

“I’m ready to go now.” He said, setting the towel down and reaching for his bag.

“Good. Then we’re off.”

They thanked the staff as they made their way to the exit. The car was waiting for them, thankfully, with their sandwiches in the backseat.

They rode a few minutes in the car in silence, eating their food. When Tom was finished with a half, he turned to her.

“Are you cross with me?” He asked.

“No, why would you say that?” Emma asked, wiping at some escaped mustard at the corner of her mouth with her thumb.

“Oh, I, um. I don’t know. Don’t know if you would have cared for the end bit of the show.”

Emma had not taken the bait before, so he had to bring it up directly. She smiled. Emma: 1, Tom: 0.

“I’m not cross at all, Tom,” she said. He sighed audibly.

“I’m just trying to think of the best way to punish you,” she said, a few moments later, not looking up from her phone. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him freeze, then smile.

She looked up and gave him a chaste smile.

“Oh, you’re going to be so much more fun than Meredith ever was,” Tom said.

Emma laughed. “I don’t know, she was practically swinging from her chandelier last year at her holiday party."

“I’m sorry I missed that,” Tom said. “I will most definitely have to make it to this year’s.”

“You will.”

The afternoon interviews went off without a hitch, and Emma only had to get in one reporter’s face about Tom’s ex. Emma fell into her new role comfortably, easily taking charge when she needed to, and leaving Tom to be his charming self the rest of the time. The meetings on Wednesday were a bit trickier, only because it was Emma’s first time round at negotiations, but she was able to organize a huge photo shoot for GQ on the back end of their press tour, before the premiere in New York. Meredith would be thrilled.

Tom was, as always, a hit at the premiere on Thursday, alternating between serious actor when discussing the role and the very serious movie, and playful when asked about his personal life or other, unrelated questions, and when interacting with his rabid fans.

They rolled back to the hotel at one in the morning after the premiere, toting In’n’Out takeaway bags to sop up all of the champagne they had consumed at the post party. Tom walked her to her door, then leaned against the wall, most likely for support, while she fumbled with her room key.

"Join me for our late dinner," he said. It wasn't a question.

“Sure,” she said. “Let me get out of this dress, would hate to spill on it.” The door finally gave way to her drunken efforts.

“Yes," he said, running a few fingers over the lacy middle of her dress. She felt the gooseflesh roll over her limbs, and her breath catch in her throat. "So lovely," he said, almost to himself. "Get comfortable and then come over.” He took her food bag from her clumsily and went into his own room.

Emma closed the door behind her and tried not to react like the women did in romantic comedies. She failed spectacularly. After her not so mini freak out, she pulled her phone out of her clutch and dialed Meredith.

"Emma, go to sleep," Meredith greeted her.

"I'm going to have dinner first, and hello to you too. Meredith, how's Tom like when he's had one too many to drink?" She asked the question quickly, embarrassed she even called in the first place.

"He can generally handle his alcohol," Meredith said.

"Right. So he's just a naturally affectionate person," Emma said.

"Yes, although," Meredith paused for a few moments, "champagne turns him into quite the romantic. And the hands tend to wander a bit more. Nothing too inappropriate," Meredith laughed wickedly. "What did he have to drink tonight?"

After a beat, Emma answered, "Champagne."

"Oh, right. Well. He won't be terribly forward. And if he makes you feel uncomfortable, say so. He's a gentleman, no matter the state of intoxication."

"I'm not exactly worried about feeling uncomfortable, Meredith," Emma said, sliding out of the beautiful, ruby-red lace and silk dress. She didn't want to take it off, but would hate even more to ruin it. The Spanx were a bit tougher to do with one hand on the phone, but she shimmed out of them as well.

"Ah, yes. Well, this is where I tell you that its inappropriate to engage in any sort of physical relations with the clients."

"I know Mere..."

"And," Meredith said, cutting her off, "If anything were to happen, Kelly would win the pool, and I can't let that happen."

"The pool? Meredith." Emma said, appalled.

"What? It's just a bet between a few industry professionals. You should have seen the way he looked at you when you first met, dear. Sparks in his eyes."

"You're being ridiculous," Emma said, refusing to hear what Meredith was saying. "And while I'm not impervious to a good man's advances, my career is far too important to let a handsy Hiddleston get in the way."

Even she wasn't convinced by her speech.

"Whatever you say dear. If anything does happen though, Kelly would love to hear the details."

Emma could hear Meredith's sly smile on the other end of the line.

"Good morning Meredith," Emma said, not willing to let Meredith get in another word before handing up.

She pulled on leggings, an oversize long-sleeved tee shirt, and moccasins. She popped out her contacts and slapped her glasses on her face, then pulled the few bobby pins from her meticulously curled hair. It still looked pretty down from her hairstyle, so she ran her fingers through the curls to separate them a bit then decided she was good to go. She hurried back to Tom’s room, walking much easier sans heels, and knocked on his door quietly.

She noticed it was propped open by the lock, so she pushed it open and stepped in.

“Hey Tom,” she said, not to catch him unaware.

“Hey come on it. I’ve set up our food on the table,” he said, coming around the corner with two glasses of water. He was in slippers, dark green pajama bottoms, and a plain white t-shirt. What a woman wouldn’t give up to wake up next to that every morning, I don’t know, Emma thought to herself as she made her way over to the table. It was positioned right in front of the big, airy window, which looked out over the sea of lights that was LA.

She sat down and began unwrapping her food.

“I can’t believe in all the time you’ve spent in LA for premieres you’ve never had a burger from this place,” she said, trying very hard (and failing miserably) to not think about her conversation with Meredith.

Tom chuckled as he settled into his chair, which he pulled closer to hers, and popped a couple of fries in his mouth. “I hear it’s delicious, particularly as a hangover cure. Hopefully it’s just as good as a hangover prevention.”

“It will be,” Emma said. They dug into their meal.

“Mm, god that’s good.” Tom said.

“Told you.”

They ate for a few more moments in silence.

“The premiere went quite well,” Tom commented after wiping his mouth. He draped a hand over the back of Emma's chair, and began winding a loose curl around his fingers.

“It did," Emma replied, being very careful not to move too much, "You honestly don’t need someone to travel with you, you seem to have everything well under control.”

“It’s all a ruse. I’m decent at the interviews, don’t really have to be coached through any of that bit, but I’m rubbish when it comes to remembering where I need to be, and when, and what for.” Tom pulled his arm back and leaned in close to Emma. “Besides, if I traveled alone, I wouldn’t have anyone to have In’n’Out with at nearly two in the morning.”

It took Emma a moment to find her words. "Let's not kid ourselves here Tom, you could have found someone, no problem."

“I suppose,” Tom said. “But that's not really me. Besides you're far better company than anyone I met at the premiere, and at least a few steps above any of the relatively few women I have spent just a night with."

He must still be drunk, Emma thought. Sure enough, when he stood to throw away their trash, he swayed a bit.

"Will you remember this conversation in the morning?" Emma asked, trying not to giggle.

"I don't see why I wouldn't." He folded his legs up underneath him in the middle of his bed and stared at her. "How is it possible, that even through your glasses, your eyes seem to sparkle?" He asked, again, almost to himself.

Emma couldn't help herself. "Is this real life?" She asked, unable to hold in her giggles anymore.

"Of course it's really life, don't be so ridiculous." They were quiet for a few not unpleasant moments. "Hey Em?"

"Yes Tom?"

"Don't tell Meredith, but I'm glad you came out here with me." His face was so sincere at that pronouncement, making him look like an earnest schoolboy. Emma's heart welled up at the sight.

"I'm glad I did too," she said with a smile, folding her legs up underneath herself to mirror Tom.

“So what are you going to do on our day off tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“Sleeping in. Lunch and spending the afternoon with a few friends. I’ll probably be back here by three or so, to rest before going to Bob’s. What about you? Should I arrange anything for you in the morning?” Emma asked, pulling out her phone.

“No, it’s your day off as well. As long as you tell me what time I need to be back here by, I’ll be good. I may visit with my friend Nathan for a bit, after a run. I haven’t run in nearly a week, and it’s killing me.”

“And that’s the difference between you and I,” Emma said. “I haven’t run in a week and it’s been wonderful.” Emma was glad to see the food begin to work its magic as Tom's words came out clearer and the flirting subsided.

“Not a fan?” He asked.

“Oh, I’m not a fan of most forms of exercise. I like to dance, and play tennis, though I’m rubbish with tennis, but I hate going to the gym, or running in general. But I’ve lost two stone in the past eight months or so, so I want to keep it off. And I had been doing so well with eating on this trip, til now.” She glanced at the trashcan full of their food wrappers.

“Two stone? Good for you. You look fantastic,” Tom said.

Emma blushed a bit. “Thanks. Rough going, in the beginning. I didn’t have complete mobility, either. So it was a lot of rehab and some exercise.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, uhm, I had an injury, had to spend some time in the hospital about a year ago. Took me a while to get back to full mobility.”

“That doesn’t sound like any fun.” Tom was quiet for a few moments. “Do you want to watch some telly?” He asked. Emma’s eyes flitted to the clock, and noticed that there was no couch facing the television, just his bed. She blushed.

“I think I’m going to try and turn in,” she said, standing up and stretching. Her still slightly inebriated eyes might have deceived her, but she could have sworn she caught Tom’s eyes quickly raking over her figure. Even after what Meredith had told her, and how Tom had acted towards her, she still didn’t know how to process that information, so she decided to ignore it until she had all of her facilities about her again.

"Thanks for joining me for the late night snack," Tom said. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked her to the door.

"Thanks for buying," Emma added. "Dormez bien."

"Fais de beaux rêves." Tom smiled as he closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologize if the French is incorrect - I'm not a native speaker.
> 
> Also, wrote this before Craig Ferguson said he was leaving his Late Late Show - kind of bummed, he's one of my favorites. 
> 
> What would your bet be for how long it takes them to get together? ;)


	4. Meredith's office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! Sorry it's been so long since the last update. My computer died! Thank goodness for the cloud, eh? This is just a little something to tide you over until I finish editing the next chapter. Enjoy!

Tom looked between the two women.

"Meredith, can I have a word?"

Emma and Kelly left the room without having to be asked. Tom followed after them and shut the door. 

“That was a bit dramatic,” Meredith said, hobbling back to her desk to sit down.

“Well, prepare for more of it,” Tom said crossly. “What the hell were you thinking, not telling me?!”

“Tom…”

“No, Meredith, I’m not finished. You get paid an awful lot of money to make sure my career stays on track. To make sure I don’t do anything stupid. And then you put this in front of me?” He gestured wildly to the door Emma and Kelly had just vacated through.

Tom stopped talking, but he was still pacing. 

“Emma is more than capable to take over for this trip,” Meredith said, eyeing her client. “If all goes well, which it will, I suggest you take her on as your full-time agent anyways.”  
Tom gaped at her.

“What? She’s young, has a lot of energy, and deserves a high-profile client.”

“I’m not worried about the trip, Meredith.” Tom sighed, as if all the energy had left him. “I’m sure she’ll do a great job. Not a blip on the radar.”

“Well then what are you worried about?” Meredith asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom sat down in the chair across from her, the one that Emma had been only a few moments before. He squinted his eyes together and refocused on Meredith’s face.

“Oh,” Meredith said.

“Yes, ‘Oh’,” Tom said back.

“You think she’ll be a distraction.” Meredith said, smugly.

“Obviously. Have you seen her?”

Tom hadn’t known what to expect of Emma. Meredith had talked about her often, about what a great job she was doing, or all of the funny things she had said. Tom had found it odd that in the two years Meredith had been his agent, he had not met her assistant. He was a perfect gentleman, so Meredith couldn’t be worried about him stealing her away.

“Obviously,” Meredith retorted. “She’s worked for me for two years, and I happen to play on the same team you do.” She winked at him.

Emma was beautiful, no doubt, but there was nothing of conventional beauty about her. Her button nose didn’t quite seem to fit the other features of her face, but her full pink lips and amber brown eyes distracted from it easily. She had long, voluminous light brown hair that had been pulled into a hasty bun sometime during the day. Her long limbs seemed graceful, but Tom may have just made that bit up, as she had only been in his presence a short while. 

She wasn’t quite skinny either. Certainly not overweight, but not so skinny as the models or actresses Tom spent so much time with. It was a welcome relief to not be able to see her ribs through her shirt, but to see instead the womanly curves of her breasts and thighs.

“Tom, dear. No time for daydreaming,” Meredith interrupted. He lost the glazed over look and turned his attention to Meredith.

“This is your doing, in some way,” Tom said.

“Oh, yes, I broke my foot in a million places to make you take a beautiful woman to America for a month in a half. I don’t think it would have taken much convincing, Thomas.”

“No, probably not,” he admitted. “But I can’t look at it like that. This movie is very important to me, and I want to do it justice.”

“Well then, do so. Emma is as professional as they come. She will in no circumstance get in your way of doing your job.”

“Yes, but I might.”

Meredith rolled her eyes and sighed. “Why do I have to keep telling you people this will all go fine? So what, you’ve got a little crush. I’m sure she’s attracted to you like the rest of the female population is. You’ll both get over it, the movie will do great, you’ll get nominated for that Oscar, and I had better be included in the acceptance speech.”

“She finds me attractive?” Tom asked.

“That’s all you got out of that? Yes, but so does Kelly, and she doesn’t even like men. I shouldn’t have said anything. Now get out there and apologize for acting like a crazy person to her.”

“Right.” Tom left the room hastily, but Meredith hung around for a moment, smiling mischievously to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> I quite like this Emma character. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
